Page 8 of A City of Flames

“Ambrose?” His forehead creases in recognition, letting go. “Was your father... by any chance Nathaniel Ambrose, a venator?”

That piques my interest as I nod once. “You knew him?”

Lorcan looks to be at least in his mid-twenties, but the red band on his arm reminds me of his high status as a venator.

“I trained at a young age, so I’m fortunate enough to have met him. He was a known legend. Now I can see where you got those venator instincts from.”

I huff a disbelieving laugh. My father may have been phenomenal in his line of work, but never once did he teach me to do anything. Nonetheless, those instincts always came naturally to me.

He doesn’t take notice of my incredulity, his eyes focusing on me like nothing else matters. “Have you ever considered becoming one?”

The words take me by shock, and I draw my brows together. Once you turned sixteen, recruitment letters would come through the winter season, and each time they did, Idris would throw them away.

I’m about to answer when the voice I recognize as my brother’s comes from behind. “Nara!”

I turn as Idris, Illias, and Iker rush towards me. All three of their tunics are covered in soot as Idris’s hands latch onto the side of my arms, his eyes searching my entire face.

“Are you hurt?” Illias says wide-eyed, huddling next to Idris.

I try to open my mouth to ask the more important question as to whether they are hurt, considering I came out looking for them, but Idris shakes his head, and a simmer of anger tempers his tone as he says, “We came looking for you at Miss Kiligra’s shop, why didn’t you stay—”

“She helped us capture a dragon,” Lorcan interrupts, and I look back to see his gaze solely on me. “I was just asking if she’s ever considered joining us. Her bravery is what we need as venators.”

Illias and Iker finally take notice of Lorcan, as does Idris. He stiffens, letting go of me, and I stumble off onto the side as his unwavering glare—no matter if he’s staring at a venator or not—centers on Lorcan. “My sister is not interested in becoming one.”

“I think she can answer that for herself.” Lorcan’s stare still doesn’t stray from me.

Idris shifts his body as if waiting for my response. The many pairs of eyes on me don’t make anything easier. Regardless, I puff my chest, exhaling sharply through my nose as I say to Lorcan, “It’s been one of my dreams since an early age, actually.”

My brothers keep silent. I don’t look at them, nor do I want to see the reaction on Idris’s face. He already knows how I feel about joining the venators. I’m not going to change my opinion to satisfy him.

Another venator calls out to Lorcan, beckoning him towards the herds of injured people. He glances down at me, an intense brightness in those green eyes, crisper than any of the spring fields in our village. “The rest of us leave here at dawn,” he says. “If you want to join—” His gaze cuts to Idris before they land on me again “—you’re more than capable of doing so.”

I frown, taking a step forward as he starts to leave. “But it’s not recruiting season?” I can only imagine how far behind I’ll be in training if I join now.

He half turns. “I know.” A humored smile dances on his lips, one I keep from appearing on mine too as my eyes follow him walking away from me.

“No,” Idris says, placing a pitcher of water on the table. I grab it, passing it to Illias as he pours it into a wooden cup and hands it to Iker.

Soon after we arrived back at the cottage, I wasted no time in pestering Idris to let me join the venators. His answers were not the least bit approving per usual.

“Why not?”

“You already know why.” He sighs, walking towards Iker’s rabbit and moving it aside before it can chew on the laid-out boots by the fireplace. I follow around in a desperate attempt to get him to accept as he falls onto a chair and rubs his forehead.

“No, Idris, I don’t know why. Your answer is always that it’s too dangerous.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I managed to subdue a dragon. Do you have any idea how hard that is?”

“I wish I could have seen my sister slay a dragon,” Iker says, and I look over my shoulder as Illias smacks the back of his head.

“You didn’t even know an attack was happening until Idris dragged you out of the tavern half asleep.”

“What am I supposed to do when the barmaid is in love with me and hands me drinks—”

“May I remind you of Ivarron?” Idris cuts the two of them off as I look at him, watching the curve of his brow go up. Ivarron is the last thing on my mind when it should be the first through everything that has occurred.

“I’ll tell him I’ll be gone temporarily.” I wince at my own lie, as do the three of my brothers, loudly.

“Please, Idris,” I drop to my knees, resting my forearms on his, contemplating what I can say to make him agree. I hate begging, yet here I am prepared to tell him he’s my favorite while Illias would likely throw a fit over it. “This could help you all move to the city. We could start a new life away from this village... this tiny cottage of ours. Once I’ve been sworn in, I could save enough money to pay off my debt with Ivarron—”

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